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She was white And that's not to say she was plain I saw her as a Martha to her Mary Always floating about in her duties So straight and proper to the eye But one wonders In the chambers of her heart What color made her beautiful When you didn't want her to be She laughs when she's supposed to But to the trained eye sometimes, When she's not She was white She was straight But who could bend her light And make her a rainbow? And I think as my pulse pounds My hands tingle My forehead is so warm I cannot sleep And I can't say her name Without saying a smile Maybe she already is